


A teeny weeny bikini

by mypassionfortrash



Series: Roger Taylor one-shots (under 500 words) [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 70's Roger being a lil shit, F/M, you're a farmer's daughter and queen are recording just down the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypassionfortrash/pseuds/mypassionfortrash
Summary: You lure Roger into a swimming pool to cool off.
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Series: Roger Taylor one-shots (under 500 words) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710265
Kudos: 9





	A teeny weeny bikini

**Author's Note:**

> Was drunk. Don't @ me.

Summer was made for whiling away those long, sun-drenched days in the pool. But now that your dad’s farm – and the recording studio at the end of the lane – had been taken over by a group of rather good looking men, you had an ulterior motive for slipping into that scanty sunshine yellow bikini that hid away at the back of your wardrobe.

A bold move by anyone’s estimations, flouncing out into the garden half-naked. A little too bold, slathering yourself in tanning oil in front of poor Roger. But you liked him the most.

He was sprawled on a lounger looking overdressed for the weather. In fact, the only tan you could fathom he was topping up was on his chest; the edges of his white shirt fell away with every labouring breath as he watched you.

“I can tell you’re awake, drummer boy,” you sassed, sashaying past him to get to the pool. “Not saying hello?”

Roger lifted up his sunglasses to look you up and down, making sure you noticed. “Well if it isn’t my favourite milkmaid,” he smirked. 

“My least favourite drummer,” you grinned, swimming over to his side of the pool.

“Wonder what your dad would say if he knew you were being such a distraction right now.”

“Can do what I want, dad doesn’t own me,” you pouted, leaning against the edge. “And what do you mean by that?”

Roger sat up and edged towards the end of the lounger. His voice was lower this time. “You could floss with that cossie, darling.”

Having him call you out like this made your heart thud against your ribs and your mouth struggle for words. You were certain you managed to mumble out something to do with it being the hottest summer on record. But there was one part of your retort that you definitely did remember uttering: “And quite frankly… you’re going to boil to death in those leather trousers of yours!”

Roger got to his feet, towering over you and for a split second, you regretted every word of that rant. It gripped you and forced your mouth open in an awestruck ‘o’.

And then Roger tugged down his zipper. “You’re right,” he said, glancing around the garden. “I think I do need to cool down a bit. Maybe you could milk something else for a change while we’re at it.”


End file.
